A Few Small Tests
by estrafalaria103
Summary: Captured by the Others, Jack,Sawyer, and Kate are put through testing. But in the Others world, sometimes the line between real and not is a bit tenuous. . .romance, death, etc. etc. Good stuff!
1. Chapter 1

**_Just a short little nothing fic. Plan for three chapters, to get back into the groove of things before delving into the realllll stories. Reviews, please, and I'll hug and review you back!_**

"We don't need all three of them," she said, staring in the three dark holding cells. "It's more work to have all three, to keep them ignorant. Let the man go."

"No," he said in reply, his voice low, angry, cold. "No."

The staturesque woman pursed her lips, looking as though she were going to argue with him again. Instead she said nothing, just walked over to the computers again, and looked into the windows. The doctor was sitting silently against the back wall, head down between legs, a slight hitch in his breathing that only sign that he was still alive. The woman was sitting too, at the moment. But any second she might stand up and begin the anxious pacing again. And the third man was still pounding on the walls, his fists bruised and bloodied, some of the bones probably broken by now.

Her leader came up behind her, placed one heavy hand on her back. "Bea, I know this is making it more difficult on our people."

"We don't need them all," she said again.

"I know," he said, a small smile breaking the icy shield of his face. "But I want them."

Jack couldn't move. He couldn't stand up, couldn't even kneel. All he could do was sit there, shaking just the tiniest bit. It was all his fault. The litany of his sins ran through his head, all the things he'd done wrong. It was all his fault.

Suddenly the door at the end opened, a small light filtering in. He raised his head, blinked, unable to believe what he was seeing in front of him.

"Dad?" he asked. Christian Shepard smiled back at him, those familiar lines forming around his eyes once again.

"Hello, Jack," he says, and his voice is different somehow, but Jack can't quite figure out just how that is. "I need you to help me with something."

He knows that tone in his father's voice. It's the one he uses when he's been drinking, when a surgery is going wrong and he needs good ol' Jack to step in and save his ass. Jack sighs, closes his eyes. He can't do it any more. He couldn't during that drunk operation, and he can't now.

"What's going on?" Jack asked, and he wasn't referring just to the help that was needed. He looked around the small, dark cell. The Others had captured them, him and Kate and Sawyer, that much he could remember. They'd been walking through the forest when his head had been hit by something hard, and everything had gone black. But now where was he? And where had his father come from?

"Jack," Christian shook his head, almost reproachingly. "We don't have time for questions. Come with me."

Unthinking, brought back to childhood days of trustfully following his father around, Jack fell into step behind him. He walked, unhandcuffed, unbound out of the holding cell, and into the bright, antiseptic white of a hospital hall.

"Where _am_ I?"

"Gethsemane Health," Christian said, picking up a pace. "The very best hospital on all the island."

The island. Jack wanted to cry. Was this the bad dream, or everything before it? How could there possibly be a hospital on the island? Unless Michael had been lying even more than they'd thought.

"In here," Christian said, suddenly darting into a small operating room. He grabbed scrubs and a mask, began pulling them on. Jack dutifully did the same. He noticed the empty table, the lack of surgeons.

"What do you need help with, Dad?" he asked. "There's nobody here."

"There will be in a moment," Christian replied. "She hasn't been injured yet, but she will be."

Jack shook his head. He should be planning an escape. He should be finding Kate and Sawyer, and getting back to the beach to warn everyone. But somehow this wasn't feeling threatening. It felt almost. . .right, to be back in doctor mode, to have his father by his side, sober and comforting.

A moment later the door was flung open, and two armed men walked in.

"Secure!" the first one yelled. A moment later two bodies were thrown to the floor, the thudding against linoleum accompanied by a small gasp from one, and a muttered oath from the other. Another pair of armed men followed them, guns fixated on the figures.

Jack dropped instinctively to the ground, and pulled the bag off the head of the smaller one, his heart torn between despair and exultation. Sure enough, brown, curly locks cascaded over his hands the instant the bag was off. He grabbed Kate's hands and pulled her to her feet.

"Are you okay?" he asked her. She nodded, her green eyes huge and frightened. He pulled her to him in a quick hug. Sawyer stood up slowly beside them.

"Where the hell are we?" he breathed. One of the men slammed his back with the butt of a rifle and he fell to the ground. Kate, surprisingly, didn't say anything, she just shrank against Jack.

"Sorry," Sawyer groaned, holding himself up by both hands and knees. "Forgot the whole no talking thing." This earned him another swift attack. Kate closed her eyes, and began to tremble.

"That's enough," Christian said sternly. Sawyer took a deep breath, and shakily stood up. He brushed the hair back out of his eyes. Kate reached out a hand, touched his shoulder tenderly, and he smiled down on them.

Now Jack was even more confused. Why were they in a hospital, why

And then Henry Gale walked in.

"Well, well, well," he said, a twisted smile on his face. "Reunited. Feels good to be together again, don't it?"

"What do you want with us?" Jack growled. Gale's face widened into a greater smile.

"What's that?" Sawyer growled. "He can talk but I can't?" This time it was a swift pistol whip to his cheek, that caused a short yell and intake of breath.

"That's pretty much it, yes," Gale said. "Now then. We just need you three for a few short tests. If you're willing to cooperate with us, you can be back home in a week, maybe less."

Sawyer glared at him murderously. Kate gulped. Jack nodded his head.

"Fine," he said. "What do we have to do?"

"Glad you asked, Jack," Gale said, and motioned with his hand. One of the armed men lifted his pistol, and with a fluid motion turned to Kate and shot her. She gasped, and stared down at a blossom of red on her stomach.

"I want you to do what you do best, Jack," Gale said. "Fix her."

"That was a little harsh, wasn't?" She said disapprovingly. Gale swivelled around in his chair, taking his eyes away from the screen for the first time in almost half an hour.

"Perhaps," he said. "Psychologically undoubtedly. But that's why we're here, isn't it?"

"I thought we didn't even want him," she said, confused. "I thought you were interested in the deceivers."

"I was," Gale agreed. "Initially. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that our little doctor Jack Shepard is more interesting. Lots more interesting."

"We're not here to investigate what's interesting," she protested. She was beginning to wonder about the sanity of their leader. Perhaps it was time to appoint another chief, by force if necessary. "Remember what the stakes are in this, Gale."

"Trust me, Madame Klugh," he said, returning his gaze to the television monitors. "I want to get off this god-forsaken rock as much as you do. And Mr. Shepard just may be our ticket to Hawaii."

Sawyer caught her as she slowly slid to the ground, gasping in pain-stricken breaths.

"Damn you!" he growled. He wanted nothing more than to lunge after that bastard and wrap his hands around his neck, but his arms were a little full of a bleeding Kate at the moment. Damn girl. Second time she'd let his revenge get away, right between his fingers.

He glanced down at the woman. Her eyes were still open. That was good, right? He glanced over at Jack, who was staring, eyes wide and disbelivingly, at the hole in the middle of Kate's shirt.

"Let's get her to the operating table," the old man said calmly. Sawyer turned to look at him, and felt a sudden jolt when he saw his old drinking buddy from Australia. Hadn't the doc said he was dead? Still, there was no time for questions, as Freckles was quickly turning a rather unsavory shade of grey.

He tried not to move her too much, as he brought one arm under her legs and raised her up, carrying her close to his body. Ruined another shirt, he thought distantly, as he felt the hot rush of liquid over his chest. He laid her down carefully on the table.

"Now what?" he asked. He turned to look at Jack. The doc was just standing there, arms still at his side, eyes still wide. "Doc! What do we do?"

When there was no response again, he turned to Mr. Tequila. "You're a doctor. Fix her!"

"Actually, I'm not a doctor anymore," he said calmly. "Remember, my license was revoked."

"Well you sure as hell are closer to a doctor than me!" Sawyer growled. He turned to Kate, ripped open her shirt. "Hell, Freckles, been dying to do that to you since day one. Sure wish it were different circumstances."

She laughed a little, red bubbles appearing around the edges of her mouth. Sawyer gulped. He might not have a damn MD, but he was pretty sure that was a bad sign.

He winced when he saw the wound, straight through the stomach. He could see a small, black-blue glint in the middle. The bullet.

Come on, Jimmy, he thought to himself. You pulled a bullet out of your damn shoulder with one hand, you can sure as anything do the same for her, seeing it and everything. But it was different, somehow. Because this was Kate, and it was her _stomach_. There were organs there, things she needed to live. He couldn't do this.

"Jackass, get over here!" he yelled, and he moved aside to give the doctor room. He stationed himself by Kate's head, brushed back her hair. "She's gonna die if you don't do something! Fix her!"

Something in his tirade seemed to get to the doctor, and he finally ran to her side. He looked down, and then glanced up at Sawyer. "All right," he said, and his voice was back to brisk, cold, in-control Jack. "I'm going to need tweezers, bandages, hot water, needle, thread, alcohol. . ."

He continued to rattle off equipment as Sawyer ran back and forth, searching for whatever Jackass asked for. No questions this time, no debates. Freckles' life was at stake.

"Sawyer," she rasped, and he dropped everything next to the doc and ran to her head.

"Yeah, baby?"

"Jack," she breathed again. The doctor didn't say anything, just bit his lip as a bead of sweat dripped slowly down off his nose. He held a pair of forceps in his hand, slowly pulled the skin back from where the bullet was lodged.

"He's here, too, sweetcheeks," Sawyer breathed. He ran a hand along her cheek. Freckles stood out bright against her pale face. "He's gonna make you better, let you climb up them crazy trees again."

She turned her head a little, eyes attempting to focus on his face. "You didn't sign the letter," she said. It took him a minute to figure out what she was talking about. She sighed. "I don't even know your name."

"James," he said, and it didn't hurt him at all to say the name out loud. "James Ford."

"Oh," she said. "Where's Jack?"

"He's right here," Sawyer said again. "Like I told you. He's a man of action, ol' Jacko is."

"Oh," she said again. "Tell him I met his wife."

Her eyes drifted closed. Sawyer closed his own in response. He didn't try to wake her up, didn't beg her to breathe. It was over. Just like that.


	2. Chapter 2

"We don't need all three of them," she said. "It's more work to have all three, to keep them ignorant. Let the man go."

"No." He couldn't believe she was arguing with him. Hadn't she learned by now to trust his judgement, to recognize that maybe, just maybe he knew what he was doing?

He watched as she walked over to the computers, and started staring at them, biting her lower lip slightly. He grinned. He could read her like a book, that Bea Klugh, and right now he knew where her head was. Wondering how possible a mutiny was, and whether the risk was worth the possible gain. He walked up behind her, and placed one heavy hand on her back.

"Bea, I know this is making it more difficult on our people."

"We don't need them all," she said again.

"I know," he said, a small smile breaking the icy shield of his face. "But I want them."

He couldn't stomach the waiting. Nor could he stand it, so instead he continued beating his hands against the door. It hurt, hell it hurt, but at least it was real. Unless the craziness in here.

He turned around, and there it was again. That damned bed, with the damn teddy bear. He blinked, but it was there again. One more time. Still there.

Just above the bed was a small window, which he noticed for the first time.

"It's all in the details," Sawyer muttered to himself. How the hell had he let that one get by? He walked over, stood on the bed and peered over the side.

With a gasp, he fell back down. That couldn't be. It didn't make sense. All of his partners were standing just outside that door. Hibbs, Gibson, Fredericks, hell, even Cassidy and she shouldn't even count! He sat on the bed, pulling his knees to his chest and squeezing his body as close to the wall as possible. It wasn't possible. That needle they'd injected him with. . .it was giving him visions of something that wasn't real. That was the only explanation.

The door swung open, and Sawyer closed his eyes.

"It'll come back around," Frank Duckett said, a twisted smile on his face. Sawyer opened his eyes, but it didn't help. The man he'd killed was standing right in front of him.

"All right, very funny," he growled, standing up and walking over to the other man. He knew this couldn't be real. It had to be some kind of a test set up by the Others. Dead men didn't come back to life, not even on the fucking island of mystery. "What do you want?" he snarled.

"Oh, it's not what I want," Duckett responded, still smiling eerily. "It's what you want that matters. You want to get out of this place, don't you?"

"Hell, yeah, I want to get out of here," he said.

"All right then. Follow me."

Sawyer felt weird the minute he left his holding cell, an itching feeling between his shoulder blades, a breeze on the back of his neck. Somebody was watching him, but no matter how he craned, he couldn't see damn Big Brother.

"Where the hell are we going?" Sawyer asked irritably. "You ain't lost, are you?"

"We're just going to meet some old friends," Duckett responded, still as calm as ever. Sawyer glanced down the hallway. There didn't seem to be any guards, or anything. It was just a long, cold, concrete hall. He considered making a break for it.

"I wouldn't try that, Mr. Ford," Duckett said. "You wouldn't get two feet. And besides, we still have your friends. You wouldn't want to see anything happen to them because you got a little antsy, would you?"

Sawyer glared at him. "You tryin' to blackmail me, Ahab?"

There was no response to this. The man just reached out, and pushed open a door that Sawyer hadn't even noticed a minute earlier. It swung open, and there, crouched on the ground, were two figures.

"Kate!" Sawyer yelled, running forward to them. "Jack! You guys okay?"

"We're alive, anyway," Jack said.

He turned to Freckles, and for just a moment his vision went black.

_Sawyer caught her as she slowly slid to the ground, gasping in pain-stricken breaths._

"_Damn you!" he growled. He wanted nothing more than to lunge after that bastard and wrap his hands around his neck, but his arms were a little full of a bleeding Kate at the moment. Damn girl. Second time she'd let his revenge get away, right between his fingers._

"_Sawyer," she rasped, and he dropped everything next to the doc and ran to her head. _

_"Yeah, baby?"_

_She turned her head a little, eyes attempting to focus on his face. "You didn't sign the letter," she said. It took him a minute to figure out what she was talking about. She sighed. "I don't even know your name."_

_Her eyes drifted closed. Sawyer closed his own in response. He didn't try to wake her up, didn't beg her to breathe. It was over. Just like that. _

He shook his head, and there she was again, right in front of him, not hurt, not injured, every freckle firmly in place. Impulsively he reached out and hugged her, ignoring her gasp of surprise.

"Don't you do that to me again," he said urgently.

"Don't do what?"

"Die," he said, simply. He was confused. What was he talking about? She sure as hell wasn't dead. He looked over her shoulder, saw Hibbs and Gibson glance at each other nervously. The reality of the situation flooded back over him. What the hell was going on?

"That's enough," Cassidy said harshly, but her voice was different now, hard and robotic. Sawyer looked up at her, surprised. "You want out, Ford?"

He nodded, releasing Freckles and standing up. She knew his name now, too? He shouldn't be surprised. Everyone seemed to know who he was.

"Here," she grabbed his arm, shoved something cold and hard into it. "All you have to do is shoot."

Kate was confused, to say the least. How had she gotten here? She glanced over at Jack, saw the same unbelieving look in his eyes.

"What's going on?" she whispered. The people in the room all seemed fixated on Sawyer. He seemed safe enough for the moment

_"Trust me," he said. "Please. No matter what the hell they tell you Freckles, you gotta ride with me on this one."_

"I don't know," Jack said truthfully. He looked at her strangely. "Sawyer's right, though. It's good to see you alive."

Why did they keep saying that? It wasn't as though she'd been injured, unconscious, nothing! Just that weird dream that kept floating through her head.

"What the hell do you mean, shoot?" Sawyer snarled. "Shoot you? Peachy keen, glad to oblige, Zeke."

_"I choose Sawyer," she said immediately, no question. That didn't mean there wasn't a question in her heart, and all she could think, all she could pray was that her trust wouldn't be misplaced."_

"No," the woman said, and in an instant a dozen rifles were cocked and aimed straight at Sawyer. He glared at all of them, a contemptuous look on his face. Kate reached out one hand, grabbed Jack's arm, and squeezed. Don't let him do anything stupid. Let him think with his brain, for once, and not with his cock.

"Sorry," Sawyer said, actually smiling a little. "So how 'bout you just tell me what I take out, and then I'll be waltzin home."

"You have a choice, Mr. Ford," she said, stepping back. "Everything, you see, is about choices." She pointed a hand down at Kate and Jack, still tied on the ground. Kate gasped. She looked worriedly at Jack.

"Shoot one of them?" Sawyer asked in disbelief.

"Either one," a tall, heavy black man said, coming to stand beside him. Kate could feel the sweat now, beading up on her forehead, seeping into her shirt. Sawyer wouldn't actually be capable of shooting one of them, would he? _Would he_? "Just a shot in the heart and you're home free."

"Ain't you been keeping track, Hibbs? When it comes to the heart I have a tendency to miss."

"That's all right," the man said complacently. "Without medical attention the victim will just bleed to death."

Kate closed her eyes. She couldn't imagine a worse death than lying in that cold, concrete room, alone. Jack squeezed her hand, and she opened her eyes. He was pale, so very, very pale, but he looked calm. She smiled. If he could be calm, than so could she.

"So what's it going to be, James?" the woman said again. "Sacrifice one for the good of two, or do we just keep you all?"

"Go to hell," he growled, and lifted the gun again, pointing it straight at her face.

"Wrong choice," the black man growled, and quickly pistolwhipped Sawyer. His head snapped back and he stumbled, tripping on Kate's body and falling to the ground. She hid a yelp of pain as he tumbled over her shoulder.

He sat up quickly, wiping a line of blood away from his lip. Kate tried to calm her heart, which was beating about twenty thousand miles a minute. Sawyer was glaring at the men above her. They pulled the safety off the gun.

The gun. Kate suddenly remembered. Sawyer's gun. She turned around, looking desperately for it somewhere on the ground. It wasn't there. Had one of the Others taken it?

"One person has to die?"

Kate glanced up. Jack. He was standing now, Sawyer's pistol held tightly in his grasp.

_She ran, his hand clasped tightly in her own. Behind her, she heard the whirring of a whip as it flew through the air, the sharp, harsh crack against skin, the anguished scream. _

_She didn't look back. She couldn't. She just ran._

He brought the gun up slowly, pointed it toward Sawyer. The conman didn't say anything. He just sat up a little straighter, stared at Jack with what almost looked to Kate like understanding in his eyes. He nodded.

"Jack, no," she whispered. She couldn't keep the words in. It was stupid, she knew. Sawyer was dead either way. If Jack didn't shoot him, who knew what would happen.

"Kate," Jack said, but he stumbled over her name. He licked his lips. "I'm sorry."

He brought the gun to his own head and fired.


	3. Chapter 3

Tom watched them nervously, arguing back and forth. There was no doubt that Henry Gale had been in charge of them for the past twelve years. He'd held utter power, not relinquishing even a shred. But most of them were in agreement, that Gale wasn't looking so good anymore, that since he'd been captured he'd become frayed, nervous, _wrong_. Bea Klugh was looking out for their best interests now.

"We don't need all three of them," she said. "It's more work to have all three, to keep them ignorant. Let the man go."

"No." Tom winced at the tone in Gale's voice. There was no room for argument. It was clean, crisp, cold, that tone that he had used last year, the last twelve years. Bea walked over to the computers, started staring at them, biting her lower lip slightly. Gale followed behind her, and placed one heavy hand on her back.

"Bea, I know this is making it more difficult on our people."

"We don't need them all," she said again.

"I know," he said, a small smile breaking the icy shield of his face. "But I want them."

11

Sawyer woke up with a start, one hand clenching and unclenching. Freckles, he thought, and then instantly, with more urgency _Kate._

He closed his eyes, shuddering slightly. Something was wrong in this place. A thousand memories and dreams kept shifting through his head, and he couldn't for his goddamned life figure out what was real and what wasn't. She'd been _dead_. He was sure, positive, he'd seen her dead. And then she'd been alive. And now Jack. . .

"What the hell kind of mindgames you playing on us, Dr. Q?" he yelled. He looked at his fists, bruised and bloody. Had that part been real? He walked up to the door, slammed his fist against it.

"Well, I ain't playin!" he yelled. He hit the door one more time, and to his surprise, this time it gave a little. He pulled his fist back, ready to pound on whatever asshole had finally given him the chance, but stopped when he realized it was just a girl. Some big, blue-eyed girl staring at him with fear in her eyes.

"I'm sorry!" she said, shrinking away. He stilled his fist, glanced behind her, saw two armed guards.

"Sure thing, cupcake," he drawled, and gestured her into the room. "Welcome to my castle. Sit down, I'll get you tea. One lump or two?"

"This is important, Mr. Ford," she said, still trembling, but not entering. "They're going to ask Ms. Austen to make a choice."

Relief flooded over him. She _was_ still alive, then.

"And the doc?"

"No, this time just Ms. Austen," the girl said.

"Well what the hell's that got to do with me, then?"

"She has to choose between you and Jack," the girl said, leaning in. "If she chooses you, then two of you can leave. If she chooses Jack, then she can leave, but no one else."

"That don't make no kind of sense," he said, trying to figure out the benefit to the Others.

"Yes, it does," the girl insisted. She was talking quietly, almost as though she didn't want the guards to hear. "If she chooses Jack, she chose right. She knows what's good, so we don't need to quarantine her. If she chooses you, she doesn't know right from wrong, but she knows love, which means there's hope for her, but only if love goes with her."

He still couldn't figure out what the hell the girl was talking about. What he did understand was that if Freckles chose him, they could get out of there. And that was one very appealing thought.

"I'm going to take you to her," the girl said. "Tell her what I told you. But you can't tell her why. They'll call it off if you tell her why."

A moment later, before he had the chance to growl out any more questions, the two armed men grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out of the cell.

1

Jack woke up with a start, cold sweat all over his body. He let out a slow breath. Kate. . .he remembered seeing her die, her last words being something about seeing Sarah. It was all becoming blurred now, the edges a little soft. But he'd froze. That much he remembered. He'd frozen, and Kate had paid the price.

He sat there, for a day, an hour, it didn't matter, time didn't matter, not when she was gone. He was jolted out of his daze by the slow creaking of the door at the end.

"Dr. Shepard?" a timid voice asked. He raised his head slowly up from his knees, and stared at the young girl standing in the doorway. She seemed unsure, but after a moment ventured into the room. Two armed guards followed behind her.

"Dr. Shepard, I need you to listen to me," the girl said softly. "Today Ms. Austen has to make a choice."

"How can she make a choice?" Jack asked bitterly. "She's dead."

The girl looked at him strangely. "I just visited with her."

He paused, raked through his memories, and now he couldn't be quite sure if she had died. For some reason he seemed to remember his father being there, but that didn't make any sense, either. None of it made sense.

"Ms. Austen will have to choose between you and Mr. Ford," the girl said quietly. Jack nodded, remaining silent as she continued. "If she chooses you, she chose correctly. She chose what's good, and she chose love, so the both of you will be able to leave, there will be no reason to quarantine you. But if she chooses Mr. Ford, it means that she has chosen wrong. We will still let you go, because you are good, but they have to stay."

"Why are you telling me this?" Jack asked. She was showing her hand, and if he knew one thing about poker, he knew that you never let your opponent on.

"I'm going to take you to her," the girl said. "Tell her what I told you. But you can't tell her why. They'll call it off if you tell her why."

1

Kate woke up with tears in her eyes, but she didn't know why. She looked around the small, grey holding cell. There was nothing here. Except. . .she noticed a small book, lying on the ground beside the bed. Walking over, she lifted it up, and turned the first page.

It was her father. One, large, picture of her father. Her real one, blood or no blood. Tears sprung to her eyes as she turned the page. Mom. Cindy, her best friend when she was younger. Tom. Tom with his family, his little girl. She turned the page again. A woman, young, blonde, with a face Kate was sure she'd never seen before. She turned the page again, and there was the woman, dressed all in white, leaning against Jack. Another page, and there was a small, blond boy, smiling and holding a teddy bear loosely in one hand. Another page turn and there was Sawyer, standing in the rain, gun pointed menacingly. A single tear drop fell on the page. She turned it again, and there were the three of them, smiling. Jack was handing something to Sawyer. She remembered. It was the day she'd given the conman a haircut.

The door suddenly flung itself open, more force than she'd have believed, and Sawyer was suddenly thrown in. She ran to him, dropped to her knees beside him.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her fingers dusting lightly over his face. He seemed fine. He _seemed_ fine, but she didn't trust the Others, and sometimes pain lurked below the surface.

"Fine," Sawyer said, and sat up. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her in close, so that she could feel his hot breath against her skin. "You've got to pick me, Kate."

She shivered at the sound of her name coming out of his mouth. Not Freckles, not sweetcheeks, not darling, but Kate. He sounded naked right now, naked and vulnerable.

"What are you talking about, Sawyer?" and then, before her brain could stop it, "Where's Jack."

"He'll be here," Sawyer said. He hadn't even winced at Jack's name. "If they made you pick, me or Jack, who would you choose?"

"What?" she asked. How could he be bringing up something as juvenile as that, the situation that they were in?

"It's important," he implored. "Who would you choose?"

She didn't have to think, not really, the answer was so simple, so clear. "Jack,"

she said, and he nodded his head.

"Trust me," he said. She started. Nobody asked her to trust them. Nobody trusted _her_. And suddenly she wished that she hadn't said Jack, because she could see it hurt him, and besides, what was the use of pride right now anyway? "Please. No matter what the hell they tell you, Freckles, you gotta ride with me on this one."

"Okay," she said, and her voice was shaking. She kept her gaze level, though, locked eyes with him, and nodded her head. He was trusting her with something, something big, and she would give that trust back. "Okay."

He didn't say anything, just stared at her a long moment, as though drinking in her face. The guards came forward, and hauled him up. He kept his gaze on her one more moment before turning his attention to the guards.

"Back for more?" he asked chipperly. "Y'all just can't get enough of me, can you? It's the southern charm, ain't it?"

She couldn't keep a laugh in. She just couldn't. But an instant later, as Jack was thrown in just on Sawyer's departing heels, she fell silent. His eyes were dark and hollowed in, and without saying anything, he ran to her and grabbed her in his arms.

"You have to do what's right," he whispered into her ear. "It's not always easy to see the right path, but I'm it, okay? Kate?"

She looked up at him. She still didn't know what was going on. Everything that he and Sawyer had said was so cryptic.

"Kate, you've trusted me before, done what I asked before. Just do it one more time, okay?" he asked. She nodded her head, mutely as the guards came and dragged Jack out. Surprisingly, one stayed back a moment, grabbed her by the elbow, and pulled her along with him. They followed Jack down the dark hallway, into a barely lit room. Six khaki clad Others lined the wall, each holding a rifle, one with a whip looped around his belt. Kate was led to the middle of the room, and then turned around. She began to sweat, feeling the gaze of the armed guards behind her. She faced the men.

"This should be easy for you, Ms. Austen," Henry Gale said menacingly, stepping out in front of her. "All you have to do is make a choice."

Make a choice, she thought. A choice about what? And then it clicked into place. They were going to make her choose between Jack and Sawyer. Her eyes darted between the two. Jack was staring at her, his face calm, composed. He looked so certain that she would choose him. Sawyer just stared at her, pleading. Jack trusted her. Sawyer didn't.

"But, just so you know, there are consequences to your decision," Gale continued. "Whichever one you don't choose will have to die."

But Jack didn't trust _her_, not really. He trusted himself. He trusted that she would make the informed, logical, _right_ decision and pick him. Sawyer. . .Sawyer trusted her to do what she thought was right. He was just worried that it wasn't what he believed. And it suddenly hit her that trust was a twoway street. Maybe he had a plan. If he could trust her. . .

"So, Ms. Austen," Gale said, and his smile was almost serpentine now. "Who do you choose? And who do you condemn to death?"

"I choose Sawyer," she said immediately, no question. That didn't mean there wasn't a question in her heart, and all she could think, all she could pray was that her trust wouldn't be misplaced."

Gale nodded his head, eyebrows raised, nodding as though he found that answer right. Two guards shoved Jack forward. He stared at her, tears almost falling from his eyes. Oh, Jack, she thought. Don't you understand? I didn't choose Sawyer. I didn't.

"I choose Jack."

Sawyer's voice shattered the eerie stillness. Everybody jerked to look at him. Gale frowned, moved forward.

"Should we care what you choose?" he asked.

"Yeah, Oz, you should," Sawyer said. "She chose me, and that means two of us get to go, right, Riding Hood?"

The young girl _Alex, Kate thought_, stepped forward. She blanced a little under Gale's gaze. "That's what I told him," she said.

"Two of us means two of us three," Sawyer said, and he was beginning to smile a little. "So I choose the doc. He and Freckles can leave."

"Sawyer, what are you doing?" Kate asked. He smiled at her, almost sadly now.

"Hell, Freckles, you deserved a fair choice," he said. "You chose Jack. But he shouldn't have to stay. You're both good people."

The tall, black woman stepped forward and slashed Jack's bindings. "You are free to go," she said, looking at Kate. The man with the whip undid his weapon. Kate didn't look at Sawyer, she just took Jack's hand in her own, and walked slowly out of the room. she could hear Sawyer fighting back, the harsh sounds of him swearing, the thwack of flesh hitting flesh. A tear ran down her face.

"Kate," Jack said gently. She didn't say anything, she just started to run.

She ran, his hand clasped tightly in her own. Behind her, she heard the whirring of a whip as it flew through the air, the sharp, harsh crack against skin, the anguished scream.

She didn't look back. She couldn't. She just ran.


	4. Chapter 4

"Now isn't this interesting," Henry Gale murmured. He tapped one of the televisions, the True Telescreen.

"Not terribly," she replied. She hated this. She understood and agreed with the basic work. After all, these two people were so terribly, terribly twisted and sad. They were only being fixed, after all. Sometimes the remedy was painful, but it was almost always efficient. She didn't see why the doctor had to be here. She stared at the third screen, the one with Ms. Austen and Dr. Shepard running away.

"Look, Bea," he said, and there was a tone of command in his voice that she hadn't heard in a long, long time. She walked over to the screen. All three of the subjects were lain out on long, aluminum tables, wrapped in simple white sheets. Beside the screen was a running tab of numbers.

"Every single one of them failed," he mused, still tapping the screen. Tap, tap, tap. "Even the doctor." Tap, tap, tap. "The doctor froze. The conman failed to respond. And the fugitive ran." Tap, tap, tap.

"So what is so interesting?" she asked.

"In the other scenarios they all succeeded beyond any expectation." Tap, tap. "The doctor, who has been brought up learning to save a life, in Mr. Ford's scenario committed suicide. The fugitive, always a runner, told the truth, remained calm, and stayed in Dr. Shepard's scenario. And most surprising of all, the conman, given the option to cut and run, sacrified himself in Ms. Austen's scenario."

Her head jerked up to the monitors. She stared at the three scenarios, endlessly being relived, simultaneously, in the dreamstate of the subjects. Sure enough, there was Dr. Shepard with a gun to his head, Ms. Austen with a bullet through her abdomen, and Mr. Ford facing a line of gunmen.

"That's strange. . ." she murmured.

"I'd like to try one more test," Gale murmured lowly.

"And then?"

"Then we have to let them go," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Then it means we were wrong, we misjudged."

"That they're good people, too," Tom jumped in for the first time.

"Let's get ready."

1

Jack gasped. He felt as though he'd been plunged into a tank of freezing water. He couldn't open his eyes. Or maybe he could, maybe his eyes were open, but all he saw was blackness.

He wasn't surprised. He didn't believe in the Afterlife. Still, he'd expected. . .something. Or nothing, really. He didn't expect to still be thinking, didn't expect to still have reason about him.

But he was dead. He'd positioned the gun, he'd pulled the trigger, felt the sinking of his stomach as he said goodbye. He _was_ dead.

"I'll be damned," a voice said from somewhere in the void next to him. "Figured I was a sure prospect for Hell. Reckon this is a bit better."

"_Sawyer_?" Jack said in disbelief.

"Never mind," the conman drawled after a moment. "It's Hell after all."

"What are you doing here?" Jack demanded.

"I _died_," Sawyer responded. "Remember. You and Freckles cutting tail. Well, guess what, Jacko. Those khaki commandos are men of their words. I died."

Jack thought for a moment. So. Even after his sacrifice, they'd still killed him. But that meant. . .

"Where's Kate?" they both asked at the same time. Jack felt his stomach sink. It had really been for nothing.

"I'm right here," she said, and Jack started.

"Hell, Freckles, didn't you run?" Sawyer asked.

"Run from what?" she asked, sounding confused. "A bullet in my stomach?"

Jack shook his head. This didn't make sense. It almost fit, but it was trying to stick puzzle pieces in the slightly wrong spots. There were jagged edges, corners a bit too big. Something was wrong.

"You did die," Sawyer suddenly breathed out. "And the doc, too."

"My dad was there," Jack said, slowly, bit and pieces coming back to him. "We were in a hospital wing. And then. . .and then you were alive again, and you chose Sawyer."

"No," Kate said lowly. "That was first. The hospital wing was last."

"Probably don't matter what order," Sawyer said. "The point is we're all dead. Or."

"Or what?" Jack asked. He sounded irritable. He'd never thought dead people could be irritable.

"Or none of us are," Sawyer said slowly.

They all sat for a moment. Or stood. Or floated. Jack wasn't really sure where his body was, if he even had one. Everything felt so disconnected. . .

"Good job, Mr. Ford," a laughing, sardonic voice boomed around them.

"Oz," Sawyer growled.

"You all performed admirably during those tests," Gale said. "But we've encountered a bit of a problem. We can't seem to get you. . .out."

"What the hell do you mean, out?" Sawyer asked, voicing the same question that was running through Jack's head.

"I mean, your consciousness has been disconnected from your body, and we can't seem to put the two together again." Henry Gale said. "It's Humpty Dumpty."

"So we're trapped like this?" Kate asked, a note of panic in her voice. Jack wanted to reach out, to squeeze her hand, encourage her, but there was _nothing there_. Sawyer was right, he thought. This was Hell.

"Sorry," Gale said, and then there was a slight popping, as though something had been turned off, or on.

Nobody said anything, not for a long moment. What was there to say? Jack wondered what happened next. Were they trapped like this forever? Or, when their bodies died, starved, asphyxiated, maybe even shot by the Others, would this end, too? Would it ever be over?

"Jack," Kate said lowly. "I didn't choose Sawyer."

"It's okay," he said.

"I trusted him. But I didn't choose him."

"Hell, no, doc," Sawyer said, and his voice was raw and tinged with emotion. "She chose you, right off the bat, no questions asked."

"I said it's okay," Jack said, and it was. He didn't need to hear anything else, didn't need to understand.

"I saw her," Kate said, a moment later.

"Who?"

"That blonde woman," she said, and then, to clarify. "Your wife, Jack."

Sarah. The image flashed through his mind, the laughing face, the golden hair, the life that was in her. He didn't ask Kate where she'd seen his wife. It didn't matter.

"This is another game," Sawyer muttered. "It's gotta be."

"It's not a game, Sawyer," Kate said. "It was done being a game, a long time ago. I don't even know when."

"I don't know anything," Jack said dully. It was the truth. "It's all secrets. I'm so sick of secrets."

"Hell," Sawyer said. "All of life's one huge, goddamn secret, Jack, when you gonna learn that? There ain't no civilization, ain't no humanity. It's a helluva lot of people lying and cheating one another. There ain't no love, there ain't no trust."

"There's trust," Kate said softly. "There's love. And we can destroy secrets, if we want to."

"What's that mean?" Sawyer asked, sounding as belligerant as ever.

But Jack understood. He knew what she was getting at, what she was trying to say.

"I operated on her back, fixed her spinal column so she could walk again," he said. "So she could. . .could dance at her wedding. Two years later, we were married. And she danced."

"His name was Wayne," Kate broke in. "I thought he was just my stepfather, this bastard that hit mom, and looked at me with. . .but then I found out he wasn't. My real father wasn't Sam Austen. It was _him._"

"It didn't work," Jack continued, dully. It hurt to speak, but right now the secrecy hurt more. The surroundings were so dark. . .he just wanted to see _something_. He wanted to see Kate, and that was only possible if he gave her a light to see himself. "I was too busy at work. She was busy seeing someone else."

"So I killed him," Kate said. "I set the gas on in the house, and I lit a match. But you know the worst thing? I would do it again."

"I love you, Kate," Jack said, hoarsely.

"Thanks," she said. He could hear the tears in her voice, but what he would have given to see her face in the darkness. He almost could. He almost felt that he could just reach out his hand. . .

1

Sawyer listened to the doc and Freckles, as they bared their souls. He wasn't doing any of that shit. His secrets were his own, and he'd be damned if he let anyone in. It was too dangerous. It could hurt too much.

"I love you, Kate," Jackass said, and his world tumbled out beneath him, cigarettes, booze, and too many women littered across the ground. Here was the moment, he thought, here's where I really pay my all-expense paid ticket to Hell. Stuck with Freckles and Jacko as they construct their suburban fantasy in the middle of fuckin' Purgatory.

"Thanks," she said.

Thanks? What the hell kind of answer was that? He wasn't any romantic himself, but he'd gone through enough women to know when the man said those three words, the woman said them back.

"James," she said, and he reared back as icy hot pain ripped through his innards. How did she know? And then it flashed before him, her all laid out and white on that operating tale, a ghost or an angel. Funny thing was? He didn't regret telling her.

"Ain't my name anymore, Freckles," he said. "You know that. You know I _became_ him."

"No, you didn't," she said. "He wouldn't have risked his life for someone. He would have cut and run."

He didn't say anything for a moment.

"Sawyer," Jack said after a moment, and if he'd had eyes he would have rolled them. Hell, maybe he did, so he tried a good little roll, just for old times sake.

"Jackass."

"Thank you," he said, simply and plainly, and Sawyer felt another slice of pain go through him.

"For what?" he snarled, trying to close those wounds, to make himself whole.

"For always being there," Jack said simply. "For going on the raft, for looking for Walt. For loving Kate."

And there it was again, that damn L word, and if it wasn't followed by esbian he didn't want to hear it. But there it was, dammit, there it was.

"You're welcome," He growled, and it wasn't what he meant to say, but he just couldn't think, and were those Jack's eyes, glinting in the darkness? "And Jacko? You ain't so bad yourself."

And dammit it all but those _were_ Jack's eyes. And that was his chuckle, cutting through the darkness. And he had to say it, and he didn't want to, didn't want to relive it, but he could feel Freckles aching out there, and if he couldn't take a bullet for her and save her, then hell, he could revisit a few bad times to get her smiling again.

"That the man you killed, Freckles?" he asked.

"Yes," she said, her voice soft as a feather. "Just Wayne."

"Don't blame you," he said. "His name was Frank Duckett. He sold shrimp in Australia. Only two kinds, spicy or sweet."

"Sawyer?"

He laughed, a harsh sound. "Friend of mine said it was him. _Him_. So I shot him. Held the gun to his chest and pulled the trigger. It was rainin' cats and dogs. Found out later, he was just some poor idiot owed my friend money."

"Sawyer," Kate said, and there was more pain in her voice than before.

"Ain't done," he said harshly. "Got in a barfight, two nights later, they were going to deport me. That's why I was on the plane. I had. . ." his voice shook, and it took a moment for him to regain control. "The feds would have met me at the gate. I couldn't go to prison. I couldn't live with myself. I saw the Marshall, Freckles. Saw his gun." He took a deep breath. Did he want to go on? Did he have to admit to them what he'd barely been able to understand himself?

"I was gonna take the gun, the minute the plane hit down. Didn't much matter what he did to stop me. All I needed was one shot. Funny thing was, when the plane went down, thought I didn't have to no more. Woke up in the middle of flames and pain, and figured that crash had done it for me, sent me to Hell.

"It wasn't Hell, though. Turned out to be Redemption."

1

Kate could barely hold the tears in as she listened to Sawyer. She'd never imagined he'd felt bad after killing a man. Not after the way he acted on the Island, the way he never cried at funerals, the way he'd shot that Other. That was two men for him, now, she thought. Two to one. He was winning.

"I had to do the triangle," Jack said. "Because that's what my life's always been. Me, work, and the world. I met Sarah through work. I loved my Dad through work. Betrayed them through work. It sounds stupid, but. . ."

"Tom took me to see my mom," Kate said. "I was on the run, so I couldn't walk in and give my name. He took me anyway. He broke the law. They found us, and we had to run. He was shot. I left him."

"Did a long con once," Sawyer said, his voice still raspy. "Had to get the girl to trust me. But I ran it longer, waiting until she loved me. The minute she admitted it, I sprang it on her."

"Here, on the island," Jack said slowly. Kate froze. This was new now, this was different. She could see the outlines of both men now, but looking down, she couldn't even see her own hands. "I knew about Michael. And I knew the Others wanted to capture us."

"I helped poison Jin," Kate said. She thought she could make out her fingers now. A little bud of hope wakened in her belly.

There was a moment of silence, tension building. Kate glanced up. She could tell that Jack was staring at Sawyer, waiting for something to be said. When the words came, it was a blow to her stomach.

"I screwed Ana," he said lowly. Her world fell apart, bursting into bright lights, and suddenly everything was crystal, and clear. Jack and Sawyer knelt beside her, the three of them in some strange circle, hands linked. But she couldn't see their eyes. Couldn't even tell if they had eyes.

"Freckles, I'm sorry," he said.

"It's all right," she responded, and to her surprise, it was. She knew Sawyer, understood the kind of man he was. It was that dualism again, that magnetic draw that both apalled and intrigued her.

"No," he said again, shaking his head. "You don't understand. I'm sorry, because _I love you_."

And there were his eyes, that swirling, stormy blue, and as Jack repeated his earlier words, his hazel eyes appeared in focus as well.

"I love you both," she whispered, knowing the words were true. Behind her a door creaked open.

"Well done," Gale's voice said. "But too little, too late. Only the whole truth can set you free, and that, little Katie Austen, is not the whole truth." He snapped his fingers, and those same three guards, those same three who were always there, stepped forward, raised their guns, cocked them. Kate closed her eyes.

"I love you both," she said again, a tear falling slowly down her cheek. She opened them again, turned and stared at Jack, met his gaze. "But I'm in love with Sawyer."

The guns fired.

And she woke up again, staring at a white ceiling. She wanted to scream. What was real? She'd almost rather be dead, just to know what was real.

"This is it," Sawyer yelled, and grabbed her hand, then Jack's, and dragged both of them out. What's it? Kate wanted to ask, but she understood. This was it. This was real.

They ran down the dark, steel hallways, darted past a pair of unarmed men, and hurried into the jungle.

"Why'd they let us go?" Jack managed to pant out as they disappeared beneath branches and leaves.

"Who the hell cares, doc?" Sawyer asked. "Just _run._"

1

"That's it?" she asked incredulously as the three subjects escaped. "We're just going to let them go?"

"There's nothing else for us to do," he replied, watching their retreating backs. "They proved themselves. They passed the tests. They're good."

She just stared at him for a moment, then back to the monitors. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. They'd chosen good over the deceptions, which meant they were useless now. But what did that mean for them? Another sixteen years on the island?

"No," Gale said, as though reading her thoughts. "It just means we bring in the next batch."


End file.
